Behind the Eyes of an Emo Girl
by hsmfancrazy
Summary: What happens when East High's Golden boy begins to develop feeling for the new girl, who just happens to be Emo?
1. Prologue

**AN: **_**Hey guys! This is my very first fanfic! Enjoy!!! (:**_

_Prologue _

**Troy's POV: **

Ten minutes. Ten frickin' minutes is how long I've been sitting in this hellhole they call homeroom. Everyone around me is in their own little world, while Mrs. Darbus continues to drone on and on about somebody named Julie Hertz. I mean, who the heck is that?! I don't know, and I most certainly do not care.

I can't help but glare at the clock and curse it for moving so slow. Gosh, why won't the stupid bell ring already?!! And that's when I heard it. No, not the bell. A different sound. As I turned around in curiosity like the rest of the class, I noticed that it was the sound of the door clicking open. And in walked heaven itself. She was gorgeous. Like nothing I have ever seen. My breath hitched as her eyes met mine. Her deep brown orbs showed no emotion, yet they seemed to cry out in despair at the same time. Her long luscious hair was loose, and fell to her mid-back. My hand just itching to pull a small wisp of her dark wavy hair away from her eyes. She had on a ton of make up ----- all black. It seemed mysterious, yet the touch of clear lip gloss made it simple. She had a tight fitting black leather jacket on, with a black Ed Hardy t-shirt underneath. The black skinny jeans that seemed to amplify every curve she had, were accessorized with a spiked black belt. Her white and black checkered Vans scuffed across the floor as she shuffled towards Mrs. Darbus. It was then I knew, that no matter how beautiful she was , not many guys in East High were going to approach her like they would for any other pretty girl. Because this girl was definitely Emo. I don't know how I can tell, but for some reason I know she is.

"Troy? Dude… snap out of it!!!" My best friend since kindergarten exclaimed in an attempt to get my attention.

"Huh?" I blinked.

"Dude what's _wrong_ with you?! You were all zoned out like some kind of freak!"

I sighed, then looked at the apparent new girl. "Nothing Chad. Just can't stand being in Darbus' stupid class any longer. I swear I'll be in my grave by the time homeroom's over,"

He laughed. "I know exactly what you mean!"

I looked at Chad and decided that no matter what, I couldn't tell Chad about the momentary feelings I had for some Emo chick. Chad Danforth has been my best friend since forever, but he would freak if he knew I thought the new girl was hot. Well, hot doesn't even justify her… she's beautiful. Oh gosh! What am I saying? I cannot be having these feelings for some Emo chick! I cannot, cannot, CAN NOT! I mean, I'm Troy Bolten for crying out loud! Not trying to sound like some kind of egotistical jerk, but it's true! I'm Troy Bolten the most popular guy in school, East High's golden boy, captain of the basketball team, coached son. Liking an Emo girl would definitely not be approved of. But do I really care? I mean, am I really that shallow? I'm better than that right?

I sigh again, but continue to nod and look interested in whatever Chad's talking about.

It feels so wrong calling her "the Emo girl" or whatever. How about I just learn what her name is and take it from there? Yeah that sounds good.

Feeling satisfied with myself, I continued talking and laughing with Chad while discreetly peeking at the new girl sitting in the corner of Room 209.

Little did he know, this was just the start of on hell of a junior year!


	2. Getting Acquainted

**AN: **_**Thanks so much to everybody who reviewed! It meant so much to me! I really needed all of your great advice, and I hope this time my writing shows some improvement! This chapter still kind of introduces Gabriella, so bare with me. Anyway, read on! Lol! :D**_

_Chapter One: _Getting Acquainted

**Gabriella's POV**

When my mother died the world came crashing down on me. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was waiting for my mom to come and pick me up from my old best friend Elizabeth's house. She had a volleyball match to go to that day so I was pretty mad about her being late. I was also embarrassed, because I felt like such an intruder to the Anderson household. Elizabeth, I called her Lizzie, kept telling me it was fine and that she wouldn't mind missing _one_ volleyball game. Of course that only made me feel worse, but I knew Lizzie was trying her best to make feel better. I called my mom over and over again, but she never answered. This should have warned me something was wrong, because she always answered the phone, but I was in to much of a frenzy to be thinking clearly. After she was an hour late, I called my dad and he left work early to pick me up. I still remember the ecstatic and relieved look on my fathers face as the doorbell to my house rang at around midnight, but I also remember how quickly it fell and the broken look that replaced it. I crept behind him, only to find two police officers at the door. When I heard them say my mother was dead, tears began pouring down my face, and my dad fell to the floor sobbing. That was the one time I saw my father cry. He didn't even cry at the funeral, but he did stay after everyone left, so maybe he let it all out then. I don't really know. What I do know, is that ever since those police men came to our door and told us my mother died instantly at around 3:00 PM in a car crash, my life has only gone downhill.

Ever since mom died, dad barely looks at me. It's probably because I look so much like her with my wavy hair, chocolate eyes, and petite figure. I used to feel proud of looking like such a gorgeous woman, but now I curse it and force myself to believe that if I looked different my own father would acknowledge my existence. Although sometimes I wonder why I still care so much, because ever since he got re-married I can barely look at _him_. I never will understand why my father married Brenda McDonald; oh excuse me, Brenda Montez. Does that even sound right to you?! I would think not. I despise that two-faced, blonde bimbo. Okay, maybe she's not exactly a bimbo, but this woman is flouncing around in all her perfect-ness, trying to replace my mother. It may be harsh, but I think I have every right to dislike her. Part of the reason I don't like her so much, is because my father pays way more attentions to her than he does to me. Technically, I just admitted to being jealous of Brenda, but can you blame me?! My father just sits around spoiling this chick he's known for less than two years, while he's known me for all 16 years of my life --- 17 if you include when I was in my mothers womb --- and he practically ignores me. I guess that would explain why he easily caved when Brenda proclaimed that we "just had to move Albuquerque!" Her words not mine. And of course, here I am in East High, a high school located in Albuquerque, New Mexico, left to experience my junior year as the new girl. Most kids my age would complain about leaving their friends, but ever since mom died I've never really had any. Personally, I'd like to keep it that way.

A lot of people would describe losing your mother at the age of 13 as devastating, but to me it's more than that. I didn't just lose my mother, I lost my best friend. Oh sure Lizzie was my 'best friend' at the time, but my mom was my _real_ honest to goodness best friend. She's the one I told all my problems to, ate Ben & Jerry's with while crying during The Notebook, she supported me and always told to me to do the unthinkable; to follow my heart. She even tucked me in every night. Whenever I protested she would say if I really loved her I would let her tuck her me in, and of course I'd give in and let her. If I rolled my eyes she'd complain that I wanted to keep me all to myself, and that it wasn't her fault she wanted to bask in the glory of something so magnificent. I would laugh and tell her that didn't make since, because I wasn't that magnificent. She'd only laugh and reply with a sarcastic remark. Now that she's gone, I find myself wishing she were there to tuck me in. My mom was my BFTMTM, (Best friend till' March twenty ninth) so her dying wasn't just devastating. It was something more. It was an unexplainable event, causing unexplainable pain, which made an unexplainable impact on my life.

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I sighed as I slammed my locker shut, cursed Brenda for making us move, and began treading down the halls to reach the cafeteria. I really don't understand why we moved from Virginia. I mean Albuquerque is in the middle of nowhere, pretty, but still in the middle of nowhere. Brenda claims she needed to be close to her family, but if she needed to be so close to them why'd she move to Virginia in the first place?

As I walked down the hall, a group of girls passed by me snickering. One of them glanced at me, and then muttered, "Who died?"

I looked down as the tears began to sting my eyes, not only out of sadness but out of anger, as the girls giggled and kept walking.

People like that really bother me. So what if I pretty much where all black? Is it really a crime against nature? At least back home, no one made fun of me in front of my face. They didn't even make fun of my clothing, more so the fact that I cut myself. If someone actually took the time to really look at me, they'd realize I don't really dress half bad. I wear the same brands everyone else wears. Brands like Converse, Ed Hardy, and Gucci. I even wear clothes from Forever 21… sometimes. Okay, I usually shop at places like Hot Topic, but that's beside the point. The point is that I wear good looking clothes, just in all black. Why people make fun of me will always remain an unsolved mystery, but out of all the cruel things people call me, the one thing I hate being called the most is Emo. It makes it sound like I'm a complete alien or something. Sure cutting yourself isn't exactly normal, but I would never use such a vile word to describe it. I have my reasons, and those reasons are between me, myself, and I. No one could ever make me feel the need to explain them. But despite all that, what those girls said still hurts.

I closed my eyes in a desperate attempt to keep the tears back, when I turned a corner and --- WHAM! I felt myself hit the hard tile in an instant.

At first I panicked, thinking of how embarrassing it would be if I hit a door or something, but as soon as I got up, I noticed I hit some guy I briefly remembered from homeroom.

I couldn't help but gaze into his gorgeous, cerulean eyes, as he recovers from previous shock and scratches the back of his neck nervously. He was probably the most attractive male I had ever encountered. I'm talking better than Taylor Lautner. His mid-length, chestnut hair complimented his eyes, as it fell across his forehead. One look at this guy, and all I could think was wow!

"Um, sorry about that. I didn't mean to you know… run you over. I didn't really see you. Honestly. But then again who can see behind a corner? If you think about it it's both of our faults, but since you're the one that fell I'm apologizing." He rambled.

I almost laughed, but I managed to contain myself. He turned bright red before sticking his hand out. "I'm Troy."

And that's when I noticed it. My lip began to quiver, as I tried to keep it in, but I gave out and burst into fits of laughter. Standing behind him, was a large poster of himself tacked up on the wall. Considering he had a basketball in his hand and that all the guys beside him on the poster were smaller, it wasn't hard to figure out that he was captain of the basketball team.

"What?" He asked, as he raised one of his eyebrows in confusion.

I was laughing so hard, all I could do was point behind him. Once he saw what I was looking at, he turned bright red once again and began laughing himself. As soon as we calmed down, he turned to face a different direction and grabbed me so that I was facing him.

"Now let's start over. I'm Troy. Obviously, captain of the basketball team." He grinned and stuck his hand out yet again.

I smiled. Then began to reach out and shake his hand, but immediately pulled back as soon as I realized what I was doing. The smile was wiped from my face, and I replied in a small voice, "Gabriella." And with that, I stepped around him and continued my journey to the cafeteria, looking down the whole way. I'm not supposed to make friends, acquaintances, or whatever. Don't ask why, but I refuse to let myself.

When I reached the cafeteria and opened the doors, my jaws dropped. This was one nice looking cafeteria. Red, circle tables were spread out on the first floor, with the high school's logo on each. There was a large and wide stair case that led up to a second floor with a glass balcony that looked down upon the rest of the cafeteria. Red and white was everywhere. Banners, streamers, posters of the sports teams, you name it and they had it in that room. It was easy to see that the school was big on sports, and it was even easier to see the cliques students divided themselves into.

After carefully scoping out the crowded room, I found an empty table and maneuvered my way to it before pulling out my lunch. Right before I took a bite of my sandwich, someone cleared their throat in an attempt to grab my attention. When I looked up, I saw four girls standing in front of me with their arms crossed.

Oh great, this should be fun.

"Excuse me, but this is our table." A brunette with green eyes stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Not to be rude, but I don't think you own this table. Is your name on it?" I asked. Okay, such a first grade thing to say, but it's the best I've got. I'm not exactly good with confrontations.

She locks her eyes on me, as if she's trying to be intimidating. She then lifts her hand up and a blonde haired girl hands her a sharpie. I can smell her strong perfume as she leans toward me, way to close for comfort might I ad, and scribbled her name without removing her eyes from mine.

"It is now." Then she smirks before handing the sharpie back to one of the girls standing behind her.

Looking down, I see the name 'Aubrey' written in loopy, black, cursive. I glance in around frustration realizing that no tables are left.

"But no tables are left." I reply in a cowardly voice.

"Your point?" She says as if she's bored already.

I sigh, then grab my lunch and exit the cafeteria.

My mother never raised me to be a wimp, and she's probably looking down on me in shame. I could've stood up to those girls, but decided to avoid causing any commotion. Not really knowing where to go, I went to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. It was there that I sat on the toilet, eating my lunch, with tears pouring down my delicate cheeks, like the helpless freak I really am.

**AN: **_**Soooooo…what do you think? I hope it was good. Please tell me and review, review, review. I'm begging you guys here! Lol! Please times like a million. If you guys don't like it tell me, because I don't want to keep writing this story if no ones going to read it. I'll update as soon as I can, but you shouldn't have to wait very long for an update considering its summer. Well, that is if you think I should continue! But anyway… review! Thanks!**_

_- Laila Autumn Marie (LAM) :D_


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